


Third Christmas

by tatooedlaura



Series: Christmas [3]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: they were beyond trivialities at this point ...





	

He stood for a good twenty minutes in the Christmas shop, surveying rows and stacks of ornaments, wondering which would be a good fit for their third year together. He’d gotten her the alien and the Woodstock Snowman and he was leaning towards the Dog trapped in Christmas Lights when something else caught his eye.

A crystal snowflake, cut in such a way that the light caught it from a hundred different angles.

Without thought to price, he bought it, along with two stockings and a box of candy canes.

&&&&&&&&&&

Knocking lightly, he didn’t hear a sound from inside her apartment but given her car was parked at the curb, he used his key, figuring she was probably asleep on the couch. Opening the door, he found the room dim but not pitch black, the only light coming from the TV, which seemed to be on the Weather Channel. Locking behind him, he silently got out of his shoes, hung his coat, tiptoed to the couch, finding her just where he thought she’d be.

Looking up from her sleeping face after a minute, he saw her half-assembled Christmas tree, two sections done, the rest spread across the carpet. With a quietly sad sigh, he lay a second blanket over her and got to work, the glow of the tropical update assisting in his task. It didn’t take too long to get the tree together, after which he opened up the ornaments, putting the newest addition on first, methodically hanging the rest like they’d done in the past.

After stashing the boxes back in the hall closet, he returned to find her eyes open, looking at the tree. He could almost see her trying to remember if she had done it before she fell asleep and kneeling down in front of her, hand pushing back her hair, finding her forehead warm, “hey there.”

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” Even in the dark, he could see her turn slightly green at the question so he moved on quickly, pointing over his shoulder, “hope you don’t mind. I tried to be just as OCD about it as you are.”

She wanted to make a joke, give him something to hold on to but the chemo she’d received earlier in the day was taking its toll, wiping her out to the point where even moving her eyelids was exhausting. Forcing her focus on the tree for a moment, she looked back up at him, her voice frail, shatteringly feeble, low to the point he had to lean in, “it looks beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m not done yet.” Standing after dropping a kiss to her nose, he moved to the other items he’d purchased, affixing the two stockings to the mantle with sticky hooks, then crooking a candy cane in each, he adorned the tree with the rest. “I decided we needed stockings and candy canes. You’ve never put them on before and they looked festive, so I bought ‘em.” Pulling one back off the branches, he returned to sit by her head, unwrapping the candy as he did so. Holding it out to her, “share?”

“Oh, Mulder, I don’t think my stomach can take it right now.”

“It’s peppermint though. That’s supposed to be good for nausea.”

Her heart warmed at the idea of him reading something and paying attention and thinking of her in the middle of wherever he’d been shopping. Wiggling her hand free, she took the candy and sucked on the end for a moment or three before handing it to him, “your turn.”

It took nearly half-an-hour to consume the striped goodness, which they did in silence, Mulder having flipped through the channels on her TV until he found ‘The Christmas Story’, sound off but better than watching half of the country basking in warm temperatures while they had wind chills in the negative double digits. Tossing the now empty wrapper on the coffee table, “you want some help getting to bed or would you like to stay out here?”

It the quiet of winter darkness, rainbow reflections dancing on the walls and in Mulder’s ancient-souled eyes, she didn’t know how to hide anymore. “I was sick in bed earlier and never got around to cleaning it up.”

Tilting his head, he smiled softly at her, his hand back on her forehead, fingers in her hair, “then thank God I gave you something peppermint or this would be an unbearable conversation.”

Oh, he so desperately wanted to make her feel better and for just a moment, she did, chuckling a wet, tear-y laugh, then wincing, her head aching as well. Seeing her, he stopped smiling, getting serious, “spare room?”

“Covered in Christmas presents that still need wrapping.”

“Well, damn it, woman,” he stood, then held out her hand, “can you give me 38 seconds to get this sofa open for you? You need a better place to sleep than all curled up like that.”

Bracing herself, she stood slowly, but the horizon change still got her, the dizziness driving her stomach contents up her throat. Luckily, Mulder was ready with the trash can she had conveniently placed beside the couch and luckily, it was over quickly, nothing left in her stomach to come back out but the few dry heaves that made the bones in her back crack and her jaw pop, Mulder wincing involuntarily.

He also stood the entire time with one hand on her back and one on her hip.

They were beyond trivialities at this point.

He took the can quietly from her when she finally straightened up, letting her grip his arm as she moved the four steps to the chair. Handing her the bucket, “that does not count in my 38 seconds, just saying.” He swiftly lifted the coffee table out of the way, then, with Scully looking on confused, he rotated the couch ninety degrees before pulling out the bed. It had sheets already on it and Mulder grabbed two pillows from the hall closet and her spare comforter, elegantly tossing them all in place, “time?”

Feigning looking at her watch, “41 seconds. Better luck next time, buddy.”

“Shit.”

As he helped her stand, then settle down on the couch, she asked over her shoulder, “why did you move the couch?”

“So you could lay down and still see the tree.” Holding a finger up, “hang on.”

All she had time for was a deep sigh at the heavenliness of the pillow sinking under her head, her fatigue at its breaking point, before Mulder returned, wrapped in sweatpants and an old, torn t-shirt emblazoned with a Care Bear dressed as Batman with the superhero’s iconic symbol beaming from the animal’s chest. “I forgot about that shirt.”

Mulder clicked off the TV, then slid under the covers, not touching her, remaining on his side of the mattress, “the things I can find at a church rummage sale, Scully, would blow your mind.” Trying his best not to jostle her, he got comfortable, turning on his left side, facing both the tree and her profile as she stared at the ceiling, “I’m just glad you steal enough of my clothes on cases that I have a permanent stash here.”

Since she was on her back, she had to choose between turning on her left side to face the tree or on her right to talk to him. The tree won, given she couldn’t bring herself to roll twice and he’d moved the couch so she could fall asleep to the lights. She did, however, reach behind her, her hand flailing until Mulder saw it, taking it in his, “come closer.”

This was something new. They’d bunked down together before, mostly when he refused to leave her alone because she was so sick from previous treatments and she was too scared to be left. When he didn’t move, she pulled his hand towards her, giving him a second indication that she really wasn’t kidding but wanted him closer.

Scooting until there were just millimeters between them, Scully closed the gap, “I am freezing and you are the best furnace I have.”

Carefully letting his hand fall over her hip and around her waist, settling on the mattress in front of her belly, “is this okay?”

Already relaxing under the warmth, “perfect.”

“Whatever you need, Scully.”

Shifting her hand so she could tuck it under her cheek, keep her fingers warm, “thank you.”

Tentatively, daringly, bravely, stupidly, he kissed her lightly on the scar left at the base of her neck, the chip removed and gone, the cancer rampant in its place. He didn’t linger, he didn’t push, he didn’t expect but simply touched for a moment, then drew back, “did you ever sleep under the tree as a kid?”

“A few times,” her neck tingled, “Missy and I would,” her heart skipped, “but I haven’t since I was about 12,” her pulse quickened for a fraction.

“Well, it was high time you did it again then.”

“Yes, it is.” Quiet descended again, until, “the new ornament is beautiful.”

Desperate to tell her it paled in comparison to its owner, he instead moved just a little closer, moved the blankets a little higher, returned his hand to her a little heavier, resting it instead on the downward slope of her side, “are you warm enough?”

“Perfect.”

Safe and sound for the moment, queasiness calmed for the moment, Mulder wrapped around her for the moment, she slipped into sleep, knowing he’d be there when she woke up in the morning.


End file.
